Cultural Exchange
by MistWraith
Summary: You can’t hang around Dean Winchester for long without picking something up! Even if you’re an angel. One-shot. Please R&R.


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**_**Disclaimer**: None of it is mine, unfortunately.

**Summary**: You can't hang around Dean Winchester for long without picking _something_ up! Even if you're an angel. Please R&R.

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**Cultural Exchange**

By: **MistWraith**

**Year 2 A.D.W.R.F.H.** (After Dean Winchester Returned From Hell)

Belial was feeling more than a little bored. Usually, a Demon Lord would deal with boredom by torturing a few minions or slaughtering a few thousand humans. But he and some demon peons were here to break an important Seal, and Lilith would shove his talons where the Pit don't shine if he was busy nibbling some underlings and got driven off by Heaven spawn.

But really, if his useless minions did _not_ get some action going on breaking the thrice-damned thing before the next millennium, then by Lucifer--May He Reign Forever--he was definitely going to be returning to Hell in need of some new underlings.

The burst of blazing light dragged him out his contemplation of his talons. A few of the more moronic of his minions actually _looked_ at the light before screaming about "My eyes! I can't see!" He wasn't going to waste time pointing out that they didn't _have_ eyes, being a bunch of smoke (only Demon Lords were able to be corporeal)--at this point, pretty damn useless smoke, too--but whatever passed for optic nerves in non-host demons had clearly been fried. Served them right for being idiots.

The light formed into an angelic figure, fiery wings spread wide. Belial peered more closely--Demon Lords being able to withstand an angel's fire--pretty sure he recognized his Heavenly counterpart. His assumption was confirmed as the angel's voice boomed out, causing his increasingly pathetic underlings to roll around, figuratively clutching their non-existent ears.

Castiel. Well, well. Last Belial had heard, Castiel was still somewhere on Earth, walking around in a meat suit (that he had actually asked _permission_ to occupy. Sort of wrecked the premise of possession, didn't it? Angels were almost as stupid as his minions.) and working with one of the Winchester brothers.

Belial grimaced. Stupid Azazel and his stupid plans. Thanks to him, the Winchesters had become hunters and had been messing things up ever since. Maybe if Azazel's endgame pawn--baby brother Sammy--would ever actually fall off the damn cliff, he might actually be useful, but Sam Winchester had never been able to be dragged over because his--Belial stopped, unable to even think of a word terrible enough--brother kept pulling him back from the edge.

And don't even get him started on Dean Winchester, do-gooding, meddling busybody. Yes, yes, Belial knew all about the prophecy, but there was something to that old saw about letting sleeping _grxbyxtqs_ sleep. If Lilith had just killed the annoyance off instead of coming up with that _genius_ of a plan to tuck him away "safely in Hell" (he mentally imitated her little kid's voice. Why she liked to inhabit children--who were only tolerable if properly cooked in the appropriate sauce, in his opinion--he had never been able to figure out) then Hell would not have suffered an invasion unknown in 2,000 years and there would have been no chance of the prophecy ever coming true.

"Belial!" Castiel's voice roared out. "Long time, no see." The angel seemed to frown for a moment. "Dude, I forgot how fugly you are!"

Belial blinked. _What?_

"Guess that's what happens when you spend eons living under rocks, huh?"

"Really? Let's see what you're saying when it's all over. We're going to kick your goody two-shoes butt because evil will always come out on top in the end."

"Yeah, yeah, yadda yadda, blah blah blah. You guys really need to fire your speechwriters and get some new material. You're just so _boring_."

For a moment, Belial was speechless. "Are you _insulting_ me?"

"Wow, nothing gets past you, does it?" Castiel gave him a smirk that looked very familiar. "Yes. I. Am. Insulting. You."

The smirk clicked into place and a lightning bolt went off in Belial's mind. "I can't believe it. You're, you're channeling _Dean Winchester_? That _pyxzzzkrqfz_?"

Castiel pasted an expression of mock horror on his perfect features. "Belial! Do you kiss your momma with that mouth?" His expression changed to mock "thinky think." "Oh, yes, you're a _demon_; of _course_, you do. I think you've even slept with her. How _is_ Lilith doing these days, anyway?"

Belial growled and swung his sword, the color of chaos, at the angel, who avoided it easily. Castiel hooted at him. "You fight like a little girl! Aww, isn't that sweet? Trying to be just like Mommy." The smirk widened. "Want to surrender now?"

"Enough!" Belial roared and hurled himself at the angel.

Castiel brought his flaming sword up and started forward then he stopped abruptly. "I don't want to take advantage. Your shoelaces are untied."

"What?" Belial glanced down at his taloned, _unshod_ feet. "But I'm not wearing—." And the angel's flaming sword cut right through him, before he could even look back up.

Belial's last two thoughts were, _Hey, I thought angels weren't allowed to cheat!_

And, _I really, really __**hate**__ Dean Winchester!_

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**A/N: **Even the Apocalypse should be good for a few laughs! Hope you liked it.


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